Beauty in the Breakdown
by justdamagedgoods
Summary: It was supposed to be just another ordinary Friday night with her brother Rory home from University. But when a case of insomnia strikes 18 year old Heather Williams, she gets a lot more than she'd bargained for. Eleven/OC; OC/Rory/Amy. M for future.


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**So this is my first attempting writing anything for the Doctor Who fandom, so apologies if characters are not up to snuff.**

Therefore, feedback is GREATLY appreciated.

This chapter is dedicated to three people: Cee, for encouraging me to write this in the first place; Kyla, for always encouraging me with everything I do; and Jess, for inspiring a character yet to come and for just being plain awesome.

Enjoy!

Sighing curtly with great emphasis on how annoyed she felt at that moment, the blonde seated behind the register of the diner glanced at her watch for what felt like the millionth time that hour. Her brother was late to pick her up from work, as always. She really should have been used to it by now, she supposed, but she never would be. In most respects, Heather Williams suffered from acute obsessive compulsive disorder, or at least that was what the doctors had told her parents when she was younger. Frankly, she didn't buy it; the doctors were quacks, she had no mental disorders. She was just quirkier than most. Besides, it wasn't like her older brother Rory was any more normal than she was.

There was something encoded on the Williams DNA that guaranteed you'd be more than a little bit off your rocker. She smiled at that thought, reflecting fondly on childhood memories such as picnics in Hyde Park with their parents before their mum and dad had separated. Those were the few happy childhood memories Heather had. They were few and far between. Her smile faltered at this, and as if as a sign she needed to stop dwelling on the past, she heard the familiar rapping of knuckles against the glass pane of the front door.

Looking up from the random spot on the cash register she'd been focusing on for the past few minutes, the then eighteen year old blonde grinned widely, seeing her brother standing on the other side with a paper bag gripped tightly in his hand. Motioning for him to come inside since she'd left the door unlocked even though it was past closing time, she hopped off of her stool, removed her waitress's apron and tucked it carefully under the counter.

Friday nights with Rory were the best part of the week to her. Since Rory had gone off to university, she hardly saw him, and she missed him like crazy. As embarrassing as it was for her to admit out loud, her older brother had been and probably always would be her best friend. It didn't take as much convincing as she had thought it would to get Rory to come home more often, because as soon as she'd made those puppy dog eyes and told him she missed him, Rory was already offering to come home every weekend. And besides, who was she to object? Friday nights had become their nights. Additionally, Saturdays and Sundays would occasionally be spent together if Heather didn't have to work and if Rory's girlfriend was working.

"What did you bring this time, Ror?" Heather asked with a smile, moving to slip into a chair opposite the one her big brother had plopped down into a few seconds prior. "Chips from down the street? Pizza from that place just off campus? What is it? Huh?" the blonde prodded excitedly, reaching for the paper bag resting in front of Rory on the table. A frown formed on her features as he tugged the bag away from her, and she didn't hesitate in sticking her tongue out at him when he began to chuckle.

"Calm down, will you? Christ, you'd think that boy from your fourth hour History class was inside the bag from how bothered you're getting," Rory joked easily, ducking once she'd balled up a napkin and tossed it at him.

"I told you never to mention that again, you tosser. Ugh, no, wait, you're not a tosser. I take that back. _He_ was a tosser. I witnessed that first hand, and he was looking at me with those creepy bedroom eyes. I wish you were around more; it's times like those I need a big, strong brother to swoop in and save the day," the blonde muttered a little more bitterly than she had intended.

Rory frowned and reached across the table, laying one of his hands over one of her forearms and squeezing lightly. "At least it's almost Christmas break, yeah? No Uni for a whole month. I'll be around to bother you so much you'll be wishing I was back at school in no time," the dorky twenty year old told her with that trademark grin of his. Just noticing it caused Heather to smile involuntarily, biting her lip as soon as she let it slip. "Ah! No! Too late, already saw it," Rory exclaimed, grinning victoriously as he leaned back in his chair.

Chuckling dryly, Heather rolled her eyes and flipped some of her hair back out of her eyes, nestling back into her own chair. "Okay, I'm not trying to be whiny or anything, but there's something in that bag and it's ten o'clock at night and I'm starving and haven't eaten since three before my shift started. So if there is but a dram of mercy in that _cold,_ cold heart of yours, please give me some?" the blonde pleaded, trying not to smirk when she spoke her last sentence.

"Oh, gee, that really makes me want to give you this," Rory scoffed, shoving the bag towards her carelessly. "It's a pint of cookie dough ice cream, two spoons. I figured you deserved some since I know you've had a rough week, or at least that's what your countless emails have made it sound like."

Eyes lighting up instantly when hearing what was inside the bag, Heather immediately pulled at the crisp brown paper of the bag, tugging the carton of ice cream out as quickly as she could before going back for the spoons. "Have I mentioned you're the best big brother in the whole entire world? Because you really are," she stated, only after prying the lid of the ice cream off and getting a big scoop of ice cream out.

Chuckling, he rolled his eyes and replied, "Shut up and eat your ice cream. We need to have a talk after you do."

Stilling mid chew, she perked a brow and cocked her head to the side. "What did I do wrong now…?" Heather asked warily, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice as she eyed him.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Rory stated quickly, frowning as he looked her over. He hadn't meant for the conversation to start off like this, not at all. Sighing, he scrubbed a hand down over his face, watching as she quickly shoved two more spoonfuls of ice cream into her mouth. She always ate faster when she was worried. "It's not bad news or anything at all. Trust me. Just finish eating as much as you want and then we'll talk."

"I'm done," Heather responded almost immediately, sliding the ice cream over towards him and leaning back in her chair, holding both hands up at her sides as if she were under arrest to further emphasize her point. "Now spill."

"I'm thinking about asking Amy to marry me," he told her after a moment of deciding whether or not to be direct. Clearly, the direct route won out in the end.

Eyes widening and mouth agape, Heather blinked hard a few times over, letting her mouth shut after a moment. "I'm sorry, I could've sworn you just said you were going to ask your girlfriend to marry you." She didn't mean to be rude in the slightest, but she honestly didn't understand how her brother had snagged a catch like Amelia Pond. Amy was the one girl who all the guys wanted and the girl that wanted all the guys back. Rory had always been the sweet little naïve best friend who tagged along beside her even though everyone knew he was setting himself up for a fall because there was no way they would ever work out in the end.

Apparently, those people had been wrong.

"Oh, wow, thank you so much for your resounding support, Heather. That is exactly the kind of response I needed from you right about now, when I'm trying to make one of the biggest decisions of my life. I bought the bloody ring and everything, and you're sitting here looking at me like I'm off my rocker!" Rory quipped bitterly, throwing his hands up in the air as he got to his feet, pacing along the length of the diner.

Pursing her lips a bit, Heather shifted so she was leaning closer to the table and watched her brother's frantic pacing. She hadn't meant to upset him, but she seemed to be good at doing that these days. "Can I see it?"

"Can you see what?" he asked, stopping a few feet away from the table and turning to look at her.

"The ring. I know you have it with you, Mr. Is-That-A-Ring-Box-In-Your-Pocket-Or-Are-You-Just-Happy-To-See-Me," Heather replied, motioning to his pants pocket since the pointed edges of the box were visible through the thin fabric of his khakis.

Scowling, Rory mimicked her easily and fumbled around in his pocket, pulling out a red velvet covered box a few moments later. He placed it down on the table in front of his little sister and sat down in his seat once again, wringing his hands nervously as he watched her open the ring box and examine the ring closely. "What do you think?" he asked after a minute had passed, brow furrowed since she hadn't given him an opinion yet and she was usually quick to speak her mind.

"I think you went all out and there is absolutely no way that girl is going to turn you down, even though she's way out of your league," the blonde told him with a wry grin, her nose crinkling with mirth as she observed him rolling his eyes. "But seriously. It's gorgeous, and Amy loves you for some reason odd I can't determine, so I would not be surprised if her answer is a resounding yes. When are you going to ask her?" Heather questioned, sliding the box across the table to him once she'd placed the ring back inside.

"Christmas Eve. I've got it all planned," Rory told her with a fond smile, palming the box and returning it to its rightful place in the front pocket of his pants. "I'm spoiling her rotten that night, I can assure you that," he chuckled warmly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"How are you paying for it, Daddy Warbucks?" she asked him, perking one of her brows high. The Williamses were by no means rich, but they were well enough off. But if Rory was planning to spoil Amy rotten, he had to have some secret stash of money somewhere.

"I've been working two jobs all term," he responded, shooting her a sheepish smile when she rolled her eyes and chuckled. "I love her, Heather. I never thought I'd have someone like her love me back. I can't imagine my life without her, and I don't want to. I want to be with her forever and have a happily ever after of our own," he sighed lengthily, looking up at the ceiling in embarrassment since he was sure Heather would begin to mock him relentlessly soon enough.

"Then you know what you need to do? Just tell her that. There will be absolutely no way she could ever say no to a heartfelt admission of feelings like that," she stated simply after a moment, finding her brother's adoration for Amy inspiring all of a sudden. She'd always known Rory loved Amy, but the way he talked about her as of late, it was like nothing she'd seen, or heard, before. Shaking her head slightly, she smiled somewhat sadly and looked down at her wrists, tugging at the material of the sleeves of her sweater. She wanted someone to love her like Rory loved Amy, but as she folded one of the sleeves back and saw the faint, healed over markings she'd made herself a few weeks prior, she knew she'd never have their love, and in her opinion, she didn't even deserve it.

"Do you have to look at those?"

She looked up suddenly when hearing the hurt evident in Rory's voice and she bit her lip a little, hanging her head. "Sorry," she replied hoarsely, pulling the ice cream towards her after a brief moment of raising her gaze. She then placed the pint back into the paper bag and leaned back in her chair, tugging her sleeves down over her wrists and the beginnings of her palms.

She didn't even know why she'd tried to kill herself as she reflected on it. Heather didn't think of herself as being depressed, but one day, everything had been too much for her. Her mum was drinking up a storm in the living room, so she couldn't leave her room. Rory wasn't answering her calls, so she'd tried Jess, later recalling that the blonde she'd been friends with since kindergarten was on a date and therefore wouldn't be answering any phone calls. So she'd decided on a bath to calm down. And the bath had worked. For a little while, at least. But once she was changed back into pajamas, the depression returned. She was done trying, she had decided. It seemed like all she did was screw up anyhow. So in a spur of the moment decision that she regretted more than anything, she'd taken the old pocket knife her dad had given her before her parents split and had made two thin—but deep enough to draw quite a bit of blood—marks on both of her wrists.

It was Rory who found her laying there on her bedroom floor a few hours later.

He'd never forgive himself for not answering her calls.

"Ready to go home?" Rory asked suddenly, noticing her clearly dwelling on some thoughts that he didn't want her to think about. "It's our night, after all. Why should we spend it in these uncomfortable diner chairs when we could be at home in the comfort of our own rooms?" he offered with a hopeful smile, hoping she would take the bait he was laying out for her.

"Yeah, home sounds like a good idea. Mum's still off on that business trip of hers until Monday, so being home actually sounds appealing at the moment," Heather commented, sporting a lopsided smile as she rose to her feet. Her smile only grew when the sound of Rory's chuckling hit hear ears and she then grabbed the paper bag from the table. She then went and turned the sign that currently read _Open_ over to its _Closed_ side, stepping away from the windows afterwards.

"After you," he smiled, motioning for her to head out of the small diner once he'd gotten the door open. Once the both of them were outside, Heather locked up the front door and they then began to walk towards home, Heather scowling as her brother nudged her towards the edge of the curb. Once she'd regained her footing, she shoved him back, the two of them soon striking up a conversation about how daunting it was for Heather to be going off to university in less than a year.

* * *

Rolling over in bed a few hours later, Heather sighed in discontentment, finding herself unable to sleep. Rory had already conked out in his room about an hour prior, and she was beyond jealous of him for that fact. She didn't sleep much as of late. Her mind was too busy for a few hours of rest. She was going to university in less than a year and she had absolutely no idea what she wanted to do with herself. Plus, she was always worrying about her mum's declining health as she continued to drink herself into an early grave. Then there were A levels to worry about, and all of her regular course work. And then there was her job at the diner, which occupied her from four to ten every weeknight and was absolutely exhausting. Suffice to say, Heather had a lot more on her plate than the average eighteen year old did. It was no surprise that she couldn't sleep at night.

With much effort, she managed to pull herself up out of bed and she slowly descended the stairs, deciding a glass of water sounded good right about now. Slipping into the kitchen, she grabbed a newly cleaned glass from where it was resting upside down on the dish rack beside the sink and turned the tap on, tapping her foot as she waited for the glass to fill. Once it had, she turned the faucet off, nearly jumping out of her skin as a loud crashing sound accompanied her action. A squeak escaped her as she dropped the glass to the floor, cringing at the sound the shattering made. "Oh, bugger," she muttered, clearly annoyed. At the same time, she was beyond perplexed as to how Rory wasn't awake yet. The crashing she'd heard had been loud enough to shake the house.

That was when it occurred to her. Rory wasn't asleep up in his room. He was probably off at Amy's house, doing God only knows what with the girl he was fully intent upon marrying. She wrinkled her nose at that and then shook her head a few times over. He'd ditched her, on _their_ night, to go hang out with the ginger. "No good, dirty rotten, shallow, hormonal, thinking-with-his-penis wanker," Heather muttered, not at all amused, as she hurried towards the door that led to the back porch. Opening it, she crept outside warily, coughing as a thick puff of smoke hit her once both of her feet were on the porch.

Whatever had made the large crashing noise was resting in the backyard of her house, smoke escaping from it in truckloads. Blinking back shock and continuing to cough, Heather blindly grabbed the broom from where it resided a few inches away against the back wall of the house and made her way down the steps. She could hear the faint sound of the snow crunching underneath her slippers, but when she took a momentary pause in her path, however, she could still hear snow crunching underneath someone's shoes yards away.

Remaining perfectly still, she raised her broom in a defensive stance, waiting for the smoke to clear up a little bit. A faint whirring hum could be heard as well, something she would describe as akin to _vworp, vworp, vworp._ It was unlike any sound she'd heard before, and it added to the stock still nature she was suddenly standing in. She was terrified of whatever was in her backyard, and she didn't know how to go about approaching it.

"You can put the broom down, you know. I'm not going to hurt you."

The voice from behind her caused her to jump a little, tripping over the handle of the broom in the process, which then caused her to fall forward onto her butt, nose wrinkling as the cold of the snow soaked through her pajama shorts. As the smoke had entirely cleared by this point, she blinked a few times, once more regaining her bearings as she gazed up at the person standing over her. Under any other circumstances, she would have found the mysterious stranger's smile endearing and his drenched appearance beyond hilarious, but she was terrified beyond the capability to express anything but fear at the moment, which left her unable to form any coherent thoughts, let alone speak up.

"Hello, there. I'm the Doctor," he introduced himself, smile still in place, before tapping the side of his head a few times, his neck tilted somewhat as he tried to get water out of his ears. "You wouldn't happen to have a towel, would you? Falling into a swimming pool and then being out in the snow do not make for the most comfortable of body temperatures."

"I don't have a swimming pool," she blurted out suddenly, eyebrows raised as she looked him over. He was soaked from head to toe, from the incredibly moppish hairstyle he was sporting, to the raggedy old loafers he was wearing, and everything in between. With just a few sentences on his part, she found herself feeling considerably less ill at ease, and it was with this sudden calmed notion she rose to her feet, brushing the snow off of her shorts lazily.

"Oh, but I do. Or rather, I did. Had to drain it, though, in order to get out of it. I'm not much of a swimmer. Never been good at it. So I suppose the swimming pool is serving its real purpose now, just taking up some space in the library," the Doctor rambled on, looking at one of his hands as if it was the first time he'd seen it.

"A swimming pool in the library?" Heather laughed out, eyes widening as she looked at the man as if he were from another planet.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" he commented, a cheeky grin in place as he motioned over towards what looked like a capsized police call box. Heather's face suddenly twisted into two very different emotions: understanding, since she now knew what exactly had caused the loud crashing she'd overheard previously, and complete confusion. How in the hell did a police call box get into her backyard, on its side? And what drugs was this man on in order to believe that not only was there a library inside, but there was a swimming pool inside of it as well? Shaking her head a few times, she snapped back to reality when he spoke up again. "Now. About that towel…"

* * *

"...I'm sorry, explain to me one more time where you're from?" Heather asked as she sat on her brother's bed, watching as this Doctor fellow disappeared into Rory's closet and began to rummage around for dry clothes that suited him.

"It's a planet called Gallifrey. Or rather, it was. I'm the last of my kind. We called ourselves the Time Lords. Gallifrey was located more than two hundred and fifty million light years away from Earth, so it doesn't surprise me that none of you have ever heard of it. I managed to escape with that little beauty that's currently restoring in your backyard," the Doctor called out to her, throwing shirt after shirt out of the closet as he deemed them too flashy, too dull, and the like.

"You do realize that my head is pretty much spinning right now. I'm still trying to comprehend the idea of not attending college anymore and going to university next year, and now you're telling me there's life on other planets..." she trailed off, blinking a few times as she stared at his back. She watched as he unthinkingly shrugged off his damp clothing, her eyes widening and a blush coating her cheeks once his boxers joined his pants and shirt on the floor. She averted her gaze and looked down at her lap, tugging at the new pair of dry shorts she'd put on.

"I understand this is going to require a leap of faith on your part, but I assure you, I'm telling the truth," he said as he glanced back over his shoulder at her, stepping into a pair of dry boxers as he did so. He was thankful this girl's older brother seemed to be the same size as him. It certainly made choosing clothing easy on him.

"How old are you?" Heather asked after a few moments of awkward silence, looking up and sighing in relief when seeing he had pants on now as well as boxers, presumably.

"Now that is something you might have even more of a hard time believing," he chuckled as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of a button down shirt, fingertips gliding over the front deftly and matching up all of the buttons with their designated holes.

"Try me, Doc," she challenged with a smile, folding her arms over her chest as she looked him over. He didn't seem like he could even be thirty from how he looked at the moment, but as she knew now, things weren't always as they appeared.

"I'm over nine hundred years old, according to Earth's system," the Doctor told her, picking out a suit coat that seemed to go with the dress pants he had chosen. Stepping out of the closet, he pursed his lips and tapped the lapel of the jacket a few times before doing the same for the hollow of his throat. "Missing something...can't quite put my finger on it..." he murmured to himself, crossing the room to the dresser on the other side.

"I'm guessing this relationship here is gonna work a lot more smoothly if I just take your word at face value, right?" she asked after a few moments, realizing that she was going to need to start trusting people more than she was used to if anything he said to her was going to make sense.

"Probably," he chuckled warmly, shooting her a gentle, calming smile before turning to look at the bureau. Furrowing his brow, he moved a few items around on the messy dresser top until something caught his eye. "Ah, yes. A bowtie," he commented to himself with a warm smile, putting it on as if he was a natural with them. "Bowties are cool." Turning away from the dresser, he then went and sat down on the bed beside her, brows raised as he observed her laughter. "What's so funny?"

"You're certainly making it a lot easier for me to believe you're from another planet. You're wearing tweed, and boots, and for the love of God, a bowtie," she giggled out easily, one hand cupped over her mouth as she watched his expression twist in confusion.

Shaking it off, the Doctor brought one hand over and patted her knee lightly. "My fashion sense is dated, yes, but that's not important. I've only just realized something," he began, continuing when he noticed her questioning look. "You've allowed me into your home, given me new clothing and I don't even know your name," he finished with a smile.

Blushing once again, Heather sat up a bit straighter and cleared her throat. Offering him one of her hands, she then replied, "It's Heather. Heather Williams."

"It's very nice to meet you, Heather," the Doctor told her with a smile, shaking her hand gently before dropping it. He noticed a hint of sadness in her eyes as she smiled in return and he immediately found himself compelled to do something. "Have you ever gone on a trip, Heather? I don't mean like, taking a ride out to Birmingham in the car with your mum and dad, but a long trip, a trip to places you've never even dreamed it was possible to visit?"

"I haven't, actually. I've been here in Leadworth all my life. My parents…they've kept me pretty sheltered," the blonde replied as she got up from the bed and walked over to Rory's closet, deciding to tidy it up a bit since she'd already left enough of a mess downstairs in the kitchen for when Rory returned.

"Have you ever _wanted_ to take such a trip?" he asked, studying her movements closely. She seemed so used to tidying up after others, which made him wonder just how much responsibility this girl had for such a young age. She seemed wise beyond her years, which would be an appropriate reason for the sadness he'd noticed in her eyes before. That had to have been what it was.

"Doesn't everyone?" Heather replied with a small laugh after a moment, glancing back over her shoulder at him before hanging up some of the shirts he'd messily discarded only a few minutes prior.

The Doctor watched her for a few moments longer, waiting until she'd finished cleaning up the mess he had made before continuing onwards. "You know, it gets pretty lonely, traveling through all of time and space on my own. It's not nearly as fun without someone around to listen to all of my stories," he started once she had shut the closet door.

Wheeling around on her heel, Heather blinked in shock as she stared at him. "What are you saying, Doctor?" she questioned warily, approaching the bed tentatively.

"I'm saying…come with me," he said bluntly, a hopeful smile on his features.

"It's not gonna work out," she stated simply, not even hesitating one moment to consider it.

"Why do you think that? You didn't even consider it," he replied with a frown, his eyes this time the ones full of sadness.

"I just…I can't come with you," Heather breathed out, tempted to either laugh or cry as she crossed the small hallway between Rory's room and her own.

"Why not? You want to get away from this place, Heather. I know you do. I can see it in your eyes. What's stopping you?" the Doctor pressed on as he followed after her, his frown still in place as he watched her walk over to her own closet.

And that was just it. She didn't know what was stopping her at this point. All she had in this town was Jessica and Rory, and they would always be a phone call away. This was literally the opportunity of a lifetime. How many people could say a man from another planet came and whisked them away in a police call box?

"You're crazy," Heather laughed breathlessly as she looked over at him, fighting the urge to full on grin as she pulled some actual clothes suitable for travel out of her closet.

"You're not the first person to tell me that," the Doctor smiled fondly, seeming to be long accustomed to the term. He averted his gaze politely as she began to change out of her pajamas and instead he began to look around the room, noticing how everything seemed so…perfect. Nothing was out of place, not as far as he could see at least. When hearing her clear her throat, he looked over at her and smiled. "Well?"

"Lead the way, Doctor," the blonde told him, the grin she'd been fighting before now showing through despite the fact her eyes were heavy with emotion.

He matched her grin with one of his own and offered her one of his hands, giving her smaller, more delicate hand a gentle squeeze once she'd placed it in his. Leading her down the staircase quickly, the two were soon wandering out of the back door of the home and across the snow covered backyard.

"How did it get upright again?" Heather asked with wide eyes when seeing the blue call box standing up straight in the spot it had previously been laying flat in.

"Oh, Heather…" the Doctor laughed lightly, finding her questions beyond endearing at this point. While her personality might have been annoying on others, there was something about the way the young woman carried herself that made it fascinating.

"Sorry. Leaps of faith. I forgot," she murmured with a blush creeping across her cheeks.

He grinned down at her and pushed one of the heavy, blue doors open with an easy, familiar touch. He then shot her a glance, letting her know she still had a chance to back out of this if she was too nervous to leave her life behind. With emotion clear on her features, however, she smiled and nodded, before wandering inside the call box.

Chuckling fondly to himself, the Doctor took one final look around her backyard, murmuring a single word before entering the TARDIS after her.

"Geronimo."


End file.
